Encouraging links between students and school staff around the globe
It was his fourteenth birthday. He was sitting on the jetty. He had cycled the seven miles home from school in a pretty strong wind that almost blew him into the side at times, and yet still the lake was as calm as calm can be, no ripples, just a perfect mirror now that it had settled again after he’d rowed across it.
The Red House – his house – was reflected perfectly in the water. Its bright red roof, its deep red wooden walls, its windows and eaves picked out in a brilliant white. How he’d love to paint it green one day when his parents were out. Make it not stand out. Make it fade into nature. Make it disappear.
All those rooms. All those wasted rooms.
School had been bearable. It was the most you could expect of school. Sometimes it was unbearable, but most of the time he could put up with it. It was never good. Only the lake and the dell and the fells were good.
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